


It's Been Thirty Years

by thenerdyindividual



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Flirting, M/M, Music, Oblivious Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-10
Updated: 2020-04-10
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:55:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23568679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thenerdyindividual/pseuds/thenerdyindividual
Summary: Geralt and Jaskier have been traveling together for almost thirty years. Jaskier has been flirting with him since day one. Geralt is oblivious to it all. It's really rather annoying.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 65
Kudos: 636





	It's Been Thirty Years

**Author's Note:**

  * For [anarchycox](https://archiveofourown.org/users/anarchycox/gifts).



> This is for my dear friend anarchycox who had kind of a shitty day yesterday. Hopefully this makes you chuckle.

“I love the way you just sit in the corner and brood.” Jaskier says to the man behind the table.

Golden eyes flicker to look at him, and away again, “I’m here to drink alone.”

And _oh_. Does that voice go through him.

“Good. Yeah. Good,” Jaskier says, tripping over his own words. He smiles charmingly and eases himself closer to the table, “No one else hesitated to comment on the quality of my performance, except for you.”

The man rolls his eyes so hard Jaskier is concerned that they might get stuck facing the wrong way. But never let it be said that Julian Alfred Pankrtaz would give up a flirtation so quickly. Especially a flirtation with a man such as the one in front of him. All broad shoulders, and black leather.

So he tries again to get the man to respond to him.

“Come on,” he goads gently, “You don’t want to keep a man with bread in his pants waiting. You must have some review for me. Three words or less.”

“They don’t exist.” the man grumbles.

“What don’t exist?”

“The creatures in your song.”

Not the worst review he’s ever had. Certainly not a bad enough review to make him give up the chase.

“How would you know?” and the pieces slide together to form the full picture. The Witcher. Geralt of Rivia. 

When he says scary swords, he really means terribly arousing. Geralt doesn’t seem to register the tone Jaskier used at all. No matter, adventure awaits. There will be plenty of opportunities to flirt while they travel.

*

“I’m not your friend.” Geralt grunts.

Jaskier just rolls his eyes, “Really? You let just anybody rub chamomile into your lovely bottom?”

“How many of these lords want to kill you?” Geralt asks.

“Hard to say. You lose track after a while. Wives, concubines, lovers…” He trails off and hangs Geralt’s shirt on the peg in their room. WHen he turns back Geralt is scowling at him menacingly. It sends butterflies rioting through Jaskier’s belly, “Ohh yes. That face, Scary face. No lord in his right mind will come close to me if you’re standing there with that look on your face.”

They banter back and firth for a few more moments. Well, Jaskier does his best to flirt, and Geralt is grumpy about life. They’ve been travelling together for almost three years, and Geralt still never seems to notice when Jaskier is flirting. At this point it’s become a game. See how long it takes Geralt of Rivia to notice that Jaskier wants him to fuck him senseless.

“Come on. There must be something you want when you’re done with all of this.”

_Like me, for example._

“I want nothing.” Geralt says

“Well, who knows. Maybe someone out there will want you.”

_Like me, for example._

“I need no one, and I don’t want anyone needing me.”

“And yet, here we are.” Jaskier says, chin resting on the edge of the tub.

For a moment, Geralt stares at him. Jaskier feels like he’s trapped in a sea of molten gold, threatening to pull him under. Perhaps drown him. Then the moment is broken when Geralt asks, “Where the fuck are my clothes?”

*

For a while after the moment in the bath, Jaskier begins to wonder. Perhaps it isn’t that Geralt can’t tell that Jaskier is flirting, but instead it is that Geralt has no interest in sex. In their time together they haven’t ever stopped at a whorehouse. Maybe it is just that Geralt doesn’t know how to tell Jaskier to fuck off.

For several months after, Jaskier lays off the flirting. While this whole adventure had started out as something purely self serving, he has grown dearly fond of Geralt over the years. The last thing he wants is to upset a friend. So he sticks to flirting with the occasional townsperson.

His theory is thoroughly dashed when they reach a city with a half way decent whorehouse. Geralt isn’t exactly quiet.

Well. Game on then.

*

The river is fucking freezing, but Geralt has guts in his hair again, and Jaskier refuses to let it stay put and rot. So he suffers the icy conditions of the river, and the smell of guts in order to work them free. 

This has happened so often that he’s invested in a special bar of soap. It is used exclusively for Geralt’s hair.

“You should take better care of your hair.” Jaskier says through chattering teeth.

“My hair is fine.” Geralt grumbles.

“Your hair is fine because I help take care of it. You have lovely hair, Geralt. You shouldn’t ruin it with guts.”

Geralt just hums. 

They troop back to their campsite. Roach is happily munching away on some grass. The fire has died down a bit, but with the addition of some kindling it crackles back to life. Even with the fire, Jaskier is still covered in gooseflesh from head to toe.

Geralt settles down on his bed roll. It is unfair how good he looks lounging in front of a fire. All ancient, and even less human than he normally does.He closes his eyes, obviously preparing for sleep.

“Geralt, I’m cold.” Jaskier says.

One golden eye cracks open to look at him. Jaskier pouts a little, hoping Geralt will take pity and offer to warm him up.

A blanket hits him in the face.

*

Jaskier begins to think that Gerakt must be exclusively attracted to women. All the whores he’s slept with were women, and Yen is also a woman. A terrifying woman who definitely hates Jaskier.

Then Geralt pays a young man for an evening.

That’s just rude.

*

“It’s just a bruise.” Jaskier confirms.

“I told you.” Geralt says. Then he stands, and starts tugging his shirt back down over the planes of his back.

“Well excuse me for worrying. If it had been a wound that got infected you wouldn't be able to use those unfairly broad shoulders of yours anymore, would you?”

Geralt just grunts and walks away.

*

They’ve been travelling together for decades before Jaskier gives up flirting directly with Geralt. He decides to turn his frustration into music. It has to be good for something after all. Now the game has turned into “How long will it take for the crowds to figure out I’m enamoured with this bastard before he even realizes?”

So as he waits for Geralt to return with the head of some great beast, he begins to pen sweet kiss.

“I welcome my sentence/Give to you my penance/ Lovely Garrotter…” Jaskier wrinkles his nose. It isn’t quite right. But he doesn’t get a chance to work on it again until they are half way up that fucking mountain.

Geralt and Yennefer disappear to her tent as he works. Yen pauses for a moment as he works, gazing at him with those purple eyes that seem to flay him open. His stomach swoops.

She knows.

He doesn’t have time to worry about the implications of that either because there’s a treacherous climb, a vicious battle that he sleeps through, Geralt yelling at him, and later Geralt apologizing.

Jaskier has a feeling Geralt has never had to apologize before. But he hangs that silver head of his, and says, “I yelled at the wrong person.”

He doesn’t actually say the word sorry, but Jaskier knows. Geralt is a man of few words. Acknowledging he was in the wrong is good enough.

*  
“Your beauty is beyond compare/ With glowing locks of silver hair/ With ivory skin and eyes of sparkling amber/Your smile is like a breath of spring/Your voice is dark like thunder storms.”Jaskier sings.

The crowd at the tavern devours it. They’ve needed cheering up ever since the fall of Cintra, and ensuing war with Nilfgaard. 

Geralt sits in a dark corner like he did the first time, only now he keeps Ciri tucked safely under his arm. There is zero recognition in his eyes that the song is about him. Though, judging by the look Ciri keeps giving him, even she has figured it out.

His suspicion is confirmed when Geralt goes to prepare the horses the next morning, leaving the two of them alone to finish breakfast.

“Those songs are about him, aren’t they?” Ciri asks, eyes staring deep into his soul. Reminds him of Yen, that look.

“Many,” Jaskier admits, “Though not all.”

“And he doesn’t know.”

“One thing you will learn about Geralt, my darling, is that while he is brilliant at so many things he is abysmal at people.”

Ciri giggles, and she’s simply a young girl again.

*

Yen resurfaces not long after that. She looks much the same as ever, if a bit tired around the eyes. She adores Ciri, and Ciri adores her too even if she is surprisingly shy about it. Yen stays with them for several days, talks over a schedule for training Ciri in both sword and magic.

Geralt is training Ciri with daggers one evening, when Yen sits herself right next to Jaskier on the log. She eyes the lyrics he’s working on, and shakes her head, “He still hasn’t figured it out?”

“No. And you won’t tell him.”

“Jaskier--” she starts, voice oddly gentle.

“Oh. No. It’s not about my pride, or fear of rejection.” Jaskier assures her.

“Then what is it about?”

“I genuinely want to see how long it takes for him to get his head out of his arse.”

Yennefer actually laughs at that. It’s a nice sounds, and Jaskier feels momentarily bad that there have been so few causes for laughter in her life. She pats his shoulder, and then goes to find Ciri.

*

The walls of Kaer Morhen are dark, and intimidating. Jaskier doesn’t even want to picture how scary it would have been at its peak. No wonder Geralt is so fucked up.

The change in Geralt’s demeanor is obvious. He’s still brooding, and hard, but there’s a playfulness to him. He scraps with the other Witcher’s like they’re wolf cubs again. He let’s Ciri use him for climbing equipment.

Turns out the Witchers of Kaer Morhen are starved of music. When Eskel catches him composing on his lute one afternoon, he somehow convinces Jaskier to play at dinner. Not that Jaskier minds performing, especially for such an appreciative audience.

He is asked to play Toss a Coin almost every night.

It takes him about three weeks to run out of songs that aren’t about how breathtakingly gorgeous Geralt is. It’s been almost thirty years of travel with the man, and he still hasn’t figured it out. He figures he’s safe enough.

He is quickly proven incorrect. One rendition of Sweet Kiss, and all the other Witchers begin looking anxiously between the two of them. 

When Vesemir frowns at Jaskier, all he can do is shrug and keep playing.

After roughly two months, the other witchers can stand it no longer. Jaskier is making his way down the table to take up his usual spot next to Geralt, when Lambert snags his sleeve.

“This is a nice doublet.” he says.

Jaskier frowns at him, “Thank you?”

“Bet it would look even better on Geralt’s floor.”

Geralt’s spoon clatters to his bowl, and his head snaps to Lambert, “Are you flirting with Jaskier _for_ me?”

“Well someone had to you dense fuck.” Lambert says, already letting go of Jaskier’s sleeve.

“What does that mean?”

“Your beauty is beyond compare/ With glowing locks of silver hair.” Lambert quotes.

Geralt looks accusingly at Jaskier, “That was about me?”

“Afraid so.” Jaskier says cheerfully.

“You were flirting with me?”

“Have been for nearly thirty years, thank you for finally noticing.”

“Who else knew?” Geralt growls.

One by one hands go up along the table.

“I knew too.” Ciri pipes up.

Geralt looks at her with something like horror on his stoic face.

“I wasn’t exactly subtle, dear heart.” Jaskier says consolingly.

Geralt stands up from the bench, making it scrape loudly on the stone floor. He snags Jaskier by the wrist, and pulls him to the door. Cheers follow them all the way back to Geralt’s room.

**Author's Note:**

> Did I just reword some of Jolene? Yes. Yes I did.  
> Come Visit me on tumblr for more Witcher! https://thenerdyindividual.tumblr.com/


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